You see, when I was young, Christmas past was about Christmas spent at my grandparents huge two story house on the west side of Denver. I absolutely loved this house as a kid. The house I grew up in was a ranch style/bungalow type house on the South Side of Denver. Suburbia. My grandparents house always meant something so different, another world both outside and inside the house. Across the street, "projects" (or lower rent apartments) adorned the street. It was always interesting to get out of the car on a visit over there, and see what crazy characters were hanging out in front of the projects. And then, there were the neighbors on my grandparents side of the street, each with their own weird idiosyncrasies that made the neighborhood unique.
But my grandparents house was this huge haven. A gigantic two story house where only my grandparents lived, but that was often adorned with us grandkids (only me and my bro, and on occasion our cousin from Northern Denver. The always kept it in pristine condition, my grandma always cleaning, making us wear little booties she hand crocheted, and my grandpa, always watering his lawn, or out mowing, the old fashion type way with a push mower. I relished going over to their house during the summers.
And Christmases, well they were no different. I loved Christmases at my grandparents. To this day, the traditions of Christmas as a kid still ring true and heavy in my heart. Christmas eve was spent putting up our Christmas lists by our fireplace. Only now do I realize a list on Christmas eve made it almost impossible to allow Santa time to buy us the gifts we really wanted. Christmas eve also meant church at the same parish that we were not only members of, but that I attended school at from K-8th grade. We always went to the Children's mass, and I fear that from the time I was young until almost high school, I only went to see who else I knew in the audience in the pews around me...all my friends from school.
But Christmas Day..meant getting up early, and heading over to my grandparents house. The smells of Christmas ham, mixed in with Mexican helpings wafting into our noses the minute the screen door and huge and heaving front doors were opened. My grandpa there to great us with some goofy comment and arms outstretched for a big hug. My grandma, apron on, in the kitchen manning all the burners she had available, making beans, homemade tortillas, checking on the ham in the oven. She was a superhero on Christmas days. I always wonder how she got it all ready and perfect every time.
After dinner, we opened gifts. Most of the gifts from mom and dad we might have gone thru that morning, before hitting my grandparent's house but sometimes we convinced mom and dad to just pack them in the car, so we had more to open at their house. While I can never recall my grandparents having a huge Christmas tree (they always had a smaller table top sized one where presents were stacked under until there was no room on the small table and they had to be placed on the floor). And after gifts, my grandma would take out of hiding a huge coffee can, always filled to the brim with pennies, dimes, nickels, spare change that her and my grandpa had accumulated over that past year. The intention, well to teach/make the grandkids play Black jack, or Poker. Even at a tender age of 7 or 8, I can recall learning how to play those games, with cheap ass penny anty type pots. We never won big, we never brought home the jar of change that we might have won, just gave it to grandma for the next time we'd play. The next family get together. It is part of what made going over to their house that much more special. The anticipation of the next time.
My grandparents sold this house over the summer between my junior and senior year in high school. Coincidently the same summer that I was wired shut for 6 weeks after having jaw surgery to correct a horrible overbite I had as a kid. I remember hating that I couldn't really show emotion, couldn't scream, couldn't talk about how a little hole was being created when they sold that house...all I could do was cry. I knew deep in my heart the house was too big and they needed something smaller as they got older, but loosing the house, that safe haven, and more Christmases there to come...just tore me up inside.
The lady that made those Christmases of my past so possible, so important to me that I can still recall vivid memories over 25 years later, is spending Christmas apart from my family this year. The drive down to Denver today, was to visit her in a hospital room in ICU. After a pretty harsh bout with a cold, that turned into a bad cough earlier this morning she was not feeling good and the careful and awesome souls at the senior citizen center my grandparents go to rushed her off to the hospital. It was that great woman, I went today to visit. While Christmas will continue this year, my thoughts are with her. Her getting better, her waking up from the medicine haze they have her in, her being able to see me and allow me to give her a hug, is the Christmas gift I wish for that I can't find in any store for any price. Until then, I dream dreams of Christmases past and think good thoughts for a speedy and healthy recovery .
No comments:
Post a Comment